Holy $#!t

I never wanted to be one of those mothers who calls the doctor when her child so much as develops a sniffle. But after today, I'll be rethinking that.

This morning, Baby Boone had an unpleasant crust in the corner of his eye. Now, Boy Wonder just finished up with his course of antibiotic eyedrops, for the same sort of eye grossness, so I said, "Aw, hell. I bet this gets worse." And lo, it was true; by midmorning, his eyes were oozing. I felt rather bad for him - he's been all sniffly since Tuesday or so, and had just developed a cough overnight - and to have an eye infection on top of that seemed grossly (sorry) unfair. But I wasn't particularly worried; sure, he was coughing and sneezing, but he didn't have a fever and seemed in good spirits.

So off we went to the doctor's office, where the doctor said, "Well, he's definitely got a cold. And an eye infection, so we'll get you some eyedrops for that. And...hmm, he's wheezing a little. You know, I usually like to do a chest X-ray the first time a child wheezes, just to check on things."

So off we went to the X-ray department, where Baby Boone's cuteness was much exclaimed over, and all were stunned by the fact that he did not cry when placed in the infant X-ray restraints. And then we went back to the exam room, where the doctor came in to say, "Mrs. Anithe's Lastname, I need to show you something." And I carried Baby Boone into his office, where he pointed out the spot of pneumonia on Baby Boone's right lung.

Pneumonia.

When Boy Wonder had pneumonia, he was ten months old, and he might as well have had an orchestra standing behind him playing the "Your Child Has Pneumonia" Overture.* He was bloody miserable. He was running a high fever. He was having visible trouble breathing. I knew he had pneumonia before we even went in for the X-ray.

I've had pneumonia many a time myself: several times during grade school, a couple of times during high school, and one memorable time during adulthood (I was 22 and didn't have a regular doctor at the time, and I walked around for three weeks feeling miserably short of breath before finally calling an allergy/asthma specialist and saying, "I think I need my medication adjusted." He said, "Um, well, you might. AFTER we treat the pneumonia. Which is in both your lungs, by the way. Take these antibiotics, go home, and don't get up from the couch for at least a week." Ah, reckless youth). And, except for the Reckless Youth incident, it was always quite obvious when I had it, what with fevers and audible wheezing.

But Baby Boone has pneumonia, and I had no idea. I wouldn't even have taken him to the doctor today, except for the eye infection. (Which, incidentally, is now raging. A six-month-old with conjunctivitis is quite a heart-wrenching sight.) So now, I wonder what's in store for us. Every time he gets a cold, will he need to go have an X-ray taken? Will I flinch, remembering how unconcerned I was earlier today, every time he coughs? And, of course, I wonder what would have happened if we hadn't gone to the doctor today. How sick would he have gotten before I knew? I like to think that I'm a reasonably informed patient. I've been told that I am by various medical personnel. But Baby Boone has pneumonia, and I missed it. How informed can I be?

*Not an actual musical composition. But please feel free to give it a try. Be sure to include a piccolo to symbolize the piercing shrieks of an unhappy infant being separated from Mommy, a small, very fast drum to symbolize how babies' hearts beat faster when they have fevers, and a steady trumpet to symbolize the whirr of the nebulizer.